


Carbon Leaf

by Khashana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Compromise, First Kiss, Get Together, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Songfic, Working Out Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 15,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Draco left everything he has ever known...and met Harry in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paper Thin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a massive H/D songfic to three albums of the band Carbon Leaf. I own neither Harry Potter nor Carbon Leaf. See my profile for how I handle songfics. The parts are named after albums, and the chapters after songs. You can look them up if you like, but you should be able to understand the story without it. This is a little vaguer than most stuff I write, at least at first.

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 1: Paper Thin  
Young children see each other as equals, even young future Slytherins. Draco doesn’t remember not knowing Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. They were just around, boys who came over sometimes with their parents, and Draco’s Father and Mother would wear nice clothes and serve Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott tea in the parlor, and they would send Draco out to play with the boys. They played in Draco’s tree house, or in the attic. He called them Vince, Greg, and Theo at first, because that was what they called themselves. Then, one day, his father overheard, and he took Draco aside and told him that he should call them by their last names.  
“They are beneath us,” he explained. “They are not your friends, Draco, they are here for you to learn and use to your advantage, no different than history or Defense Against the Dark Arts.”  
“Why are they beneath us, Dad?” Draco had asked curiously.  
“You will learn, Draco, that some families are better than others. Some are purer than others, like the difference between gold and bronze. You remember that Galleons are worth more than Knuts, right?” Draco had nodded, unsure of the point. “Well, gold is a pure metal. All that is in it is gold. You cannot mix two metals and get gold, understand? Bronze, however, is made by mixing metals. Naturally, it is inferior. So it is with families’ blood.”  
“And Vince—Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott are like that?”   
“No, they are inferior in other ways. They lack intelligence, grace, poise, instinct, beauty. All things we Malfoys have plenty of.”  
“So who are my friends?” Who are my equals?  
“No one, Draco. The mask is your only friend.”  
Draco recognized when he had asked his father too many questions, and to question the meaning of this statement would be crossing that line. Many years later, he would look back on that day and see it as having more than one meaning: the mask of the Death Eater, and the metaphorical mask behind which he was to conceal everything that made him human.


	2. Country Monkee

Pt. 1: Meander

Chapter 2: Country Monkee

When he was older, Draco was expected to act like a small grownup. Failing to address his parents with respect was met with pain rather than a reprimand. He was expected to stay out of his parents’ way, and yet be available when they wanted him. He was expected to hide every trace of the lesser emotions. That meant sadness, grief, fear. That meant open joy—his father would often say, “I’m delighted,” or “Simply ecstatic” while giving a small smile that did not reach his eyes. That meant fury—a Malfoy only fought when attacked, and never expressed more than extreme disapproval and/or disgust.

Draco learned quickly that his child’s rampant emotions would not submit to such damping down, and he sought out places he could be alone and set them free. He used to play in the yard, but his father could see him a mile away there, so he relocated to a small shed from several generations ago. There was a small trail in the woods that led to a lovely hiding place between several bushes. Draco called it his nook after something he’d heard his mother mention. When he didn’t have time to get so far away, he climbed a tree near the house. He got very good at timing these excursions so nobody would miss him while he was gone and get annoyed at not finding him, and also at not ripping his fine clothes.

When he was a little older, the Dark Lord came back, and Draco’s family was different. For the first time, he saw his father afraid. For the first time, he saw his mother ill, and it wasn’t until later he realized she had turned to recreational drugs, potions she brewed herself from illegal ingredients. Draco began to get food from the house-elves and store it in his hiding places, for when his father was away and his mother was high, she frequently ordered the house-elves not to make dinner, not caring whether he wanted any. So Draco learned to fend for himself, learned that if he wanted food, he could only depend on himself.


	3. Skeleton Man Dance

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 3: Skeleton Man Dance  
The Dark Lord’s return meant Draco’s house was turned into a base for the Death Eaters. Gone were Draco’s escapes, his hiding places. Instead, he was the live entertainment, waiting on the Death Eaters like a house-elf, keeping his expression schooled even as they made fun of his youth, his beauty. And the lies. ‘It will be worth it when the new regime is in place.’ ‘We will be kings.’ ‘You should be glad to serve the Dark Lord.’ It made Draco sick. He was a puppet, made to dance at the bidding of the Dark Lord, and what Master set their puppets, their house-elves free? But his father believed the lies. This was a revelation that hit Draco hard. Which was better, to be a puppet at the Dark Lord’s bidding, or to oppose him and die cruelly? Over and over again, Draco chose being a puppet. There was a reason he wasn’t in Gryffindor.


	4. One Day

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 4: One Day  
A spell fell across Draco’s face like a slap, snapping his head back. Sometimes, this was the only way he knew he was still alive, let alone human, such emptiness filled him now.  
Draco was almost seventeen, and once he was, he’d be allowed to join the Death Eaters. Whatever happened, life would never be the same again.  
Draco sat in what used to be his favorite chair, staring at the wall. He ran a hand over the place where his father’s curse had hit him. Sometimes, when he was sure the Dark Lord wasn’t in mindshot, he wondered things. Things like, would it be better to leave? Was there a better place? Was he wrong about everything? Would he make it? Of all of these, he was only sure of the answer to the last: Yes.  
Draco didn’t know what inspired it, but this hope was something not his father, not the Death Eaters, not even the Dark Lord could touch. He was absolutely certain that he would someday be free. How, he didn’t know. What he needed to do, well, sometimes he thought he knew and just didn’t want to admit it. Perhaps the Dark Lord would rule, perhaps he would be dead. Perhaps he would walk away and the Death Eaters would gather and discuss what to do, or perhaps he was so unimportant that they would forget about him.  
And, for the first time, Draco allowed himself to wonder, what did he gain by staying?


	5. Kettle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my best friend

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 5: Kettle  
Draco was trying to write a letter, just one of the many boring letters he had to write due to being who he was, but his mind was not on it. He pressed too hard and the quill broke. Sighing, Draco pulled out a pocketknife and began to sharpen it, still not paying attention.  
Ouch! He looked down at his hand in surprise. The pocketknife had apparently slipped, because now he was bleeding everywhere. He reached for his wand and healed it quickly, then sighed again and stood up, abandoning his task. What he really needed was a good calming cup of tea. And he wanted to make it himself, not just call for a house-elf and have one brought to him. Sometimes Draco thought half the soothing properties of tea came from the familiar routine of making it.  
He was halfway to the little upstairs kitchen, just passing by the stairs, when he heard his parents talking in low voices.  
“You will do as I tell you, Narcissa. You are my wife.”  
“And therefore, your property?”  
A pause.  
“If necessary.”  
Draco turned away in disgust and pointed his wand at the kettle haphazardly, Summoning a tea bag, sugar, a mug, and cream. He prepared the tea for the hot water, and sank into a chair, moving to bury his face in his hands, before he caught sight of the blood still covering his fingers. Pure-blood. His parents’ blood. He thought about that for a second.  
Technically, he was half his father and half his mother, down to his blood, wasn’t that right? But how could one person be a mix of two who could not even agree?  
He had a vague idea that other people’s parents caught them kissing in the kitchen, or holding hands, or even just laughing. His parents, though together, had always seemed alone.  
I want to go home, thought Draco suddenly, and it was a strange thought, for someone sitting in the house he’d lived in since birth. But for some reason, he knew that was all it was now. A house. Not home.


	6. Clockwork

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 6: Clockwork  
Draco surreptitiously packed clothes into a carpetbag. His one Muggle outfit, all of his plainest outfits, and one set of dress robes. Practical things for traveling, and something for unforeseen circumstances.  
He hid the bag in the bottom of his closet. Now was not the time. Almost. There was something, Draco didn’t know what, going on tomorrow night, and he would go then, while they were out. And the day after would be his birthday. He didn’t know how he was going to get away with not using magic for even a full day until his birthday, but Muggles managed, so he supposed he would.  
He looked around, as though saying goodbye to his ancestral home. Here was where Lucius had chased him the first time he’d been bad and run from punishment, before giving up and Summoning him. Draco still remembered the sensation of being Summoned like a common object, the swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach as his feet left the ground. Here was the staircase he always jumped when he was in a hurry. He walked back into his room for lack of anything to do. There was the clock that ticked so loudly. There was the shed he could see out his window—one of his hiding places. He would climb up on the roof, until the first rain after the first leaffall, because the wet leaves would stick to him. There was a storm brewing now.  
These were the walls that had seen everything he had done and been for the past almost-seventeen years.   
Tick. Tick. Tick. Traitor, the clock seemed to say. Cuckoo. What are you, to break the pattern of so long?  
Suddenly borne up on a tide of rage, Draco swung round, wand in hand, and cast Reducto at the clock nonverbally. It shattered, glass sprinkling the floor.  
Well, I am a cuckoo, he thought, shaking slightly. I’m turning traitor.   
No. I’m escaping. You can’t betray a man who’s already betrayed you.  
And he didn’t know if he was talking about his father or the Dark Lord.   
Pain shot through him suddenly, and he leaned against the wall and breathed through the flashback, as he’d done a dozen times before.   
Will I be able to leave this here? He wondered suddenly. The pain, the history, will it stay or will it come, packed in the carpetbag with my clothes?  
He supposed he couldn’t expect all he was to stay at Malfoy Manor, but he sent up a prayer to anyone listening that the new beginning would allow him freedom from some of it. If every single thing he was trying to escape traveled with him, what was the point of leaving?  
He hadn’t thought he’d miss any of it, but he felt a sad nostalgia as his eyes fell on the piano in the corner. He couldn’t take it with him; transfiguring any instrument did something to the sound that could never be fixed. Well. He had a couple of hours of time left. Draco pointed his wand at the metronome, then stopped. No. He didn’t want the metronome. He wanted to play as though there was no meter, no pattern underneath, the way he only played when nobody was home, as though screaming a song of pain and rage and joy that had no beat, only raw emotion. Draco sat down on the bench and spread his hands over the keys. One more time, he would do something familiar. But he was done forever with his clockwork life.


	7. Weirdguyhaus

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 7: Weirdguyhaus

Draco stood in the entryway of his own house, clutching his luggage and shaking. He was going to do it. He was going to run away.   
But what would happen after he freed himself from this deathtrap, he’d somehow forgotten to think about.  
Oh, he knew where he would go. He was going to see Potter. Potter was the only one naïve enough, good-hearted enough to let him prove himself before casting him out.  
But with Potter came Weasley, and Granger, and Dumbledore, and was he ready?  
It didn’t really matter if he was ready or not, because he had to go tonight. Tonight was the only night in the foreseeable future he would be alone in the house, because once he was seventeen they’d expect him to take the Mark and come with them. And he couldn’t risk seeing the Dark Lord again, he couldn’t possibly hide his treacherous thoughts the way he’d been doing.  
Draco felt ready to scream.  
He had to try. It was that simple.   
He stepped outside his house, still close enough that the Ministry wouldn’t come after him for underage magic, but far enough away that he was outside the Anti-Apparition wards.   
He focused on the little house in Surrey that he’d seen by the divining spells he’d cast to find Potter, and turned on the spot.


	8. Directional

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 8: Directional

“BOY!” was the first thing Draco heard as he appeared on a street he’d only seen in spells. “STOP THAT RACKET! IF I’VE TOLD YOU ONCE, I’VE TOLD YOU A HUNDRED TIMES, I WON’T HAVE THAT NONSENSE IN MY HOUSE!”  
Once he’d recovered from the surprise, Draco ducked behind a car and surveyed Number 4. How was he to find Harry? The whole thing was more surreal than he’d guessed it would be. Here he was, standing in a Muggle street, hiding behind a car, hoping the Savior of the Wizarding World would just walk out and say hello.  
To compound the feeling, Harry promptly did just that.  
Well, not quite. He walked out of the house and scanned the street as though looking for Draco. Well, of course. Draco didn’t have the experience to Apparate silently. Harry was right there, and all Draco had to do was step out.   
A wave of dizziness overtook him. This was uncharted territory. It felt as though he’d lived his entire life with a compass and map handy, and then tossed them away and run into the forest, or rather, the suburbs, and here he was, hoping someone would lend him their map and compass.   
He knew he should step out. But his feet felt tied firm.  
“Potter,” he tried, but it was too quiet, even he could hear that. Louder. “Potter.”  
Harry turned. Harry began to walk towards him. Harry peered around the car, which Draco was now leaning against for support, and, keeping his wand trained on Draco, came closer.  
“Malfoy? Are you lost?”  
Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be funny, but Draco laughed. It was so true.  
“Quite.” Fear was overwhelming him now, not of Harry, but of this whole situation. He could almost hear the accusing whispers of Weasley and Granger. ‘He’s a Death Eater, Harry.’ ‘You can’t trust Malfoy, Harry.’ But the thing about Harry was that he wasn’t tainted by family prejudice as Weasley was, or by books written by the winning side as Granger was, or even by his own experience. Draco, he was both surprised and unsurprised to find, trusted Harry completely.  
“That’s a change. Thought Malfoys could do everything better than the rest of us.” But it wasn’t mocking, merely facetious. Draco wanted to say that Malfoys could, but only on familiar ground, and this was far from familiar. But it was Potter’s home ground. Potter had the map and compass to this part of Draco’s life. And he was too scared, too tired, too deep in a panic attack, to be his old snarky self. He gathered enough breath to speak, and when he had it, he said only,  
“Help me, Potter.”


	9. Live Like You

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 9: Live Like You

Harry Potter was crouching beside him in Muggle Surrey and looking at him as though concerned for a friend. The strangeness was starting to affect Draco, and he could feel himself shaking.  
“Malfoy. Draco. What happened?”  
“I ran away,” said Draco. He felt a smile stretch his face, borne as much of panic as of pride, and Harry seemed to see it too, for he gripped Draco’s arm.  
“Merlin, Draco…” And Harry Potter sat down and took Draco’s hands in his own. Not quite the hug Draco craved (but would never ask for), but still a grounding, centering force. He forced himself to take real breaths, abandoning the shallow pattern he’d fallen into.  
“Why?”  
That was Harry for you, blunt as ever.  
Still. From Harry’s point of view, he supposed it made sense. He’d always been his father’s biggest fan, why should Harry expect him to change?  
“You think I was the exception to anything he ever did?”  
It meant so many things. Considering blind servitude to the Dark Lord to be a measure of one’s manhood. Looking down on anyone who didn’t perfectly measure up to all his standards, even children. Causing pain to anyone who wasn’t behaving as he saw fit.  
Pain. It hadn’t been so long since the last flashback, after all, and he was always a little more vulnerable to them after they occurred—a particularly vicious cycle he’d never been able to free himself from. Remembered pain washed through him.  
And stopped.  
Harry was holding his hands even more tightly now, and he was so completely, undeniably there that the memories couldn’t take over.  
“Look, I don’t think you’re faking it. But I’d be an idiot if I let you stay here and keep your wand.”  
Was it worth it?  
Yes.  
Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and handed it over. Harry took it almost reverentially, then turned those piercing eyes back on Draco. His lips were slightly parted, as though amazed. Then he pocketed it, and stood, pulling Draco to his feet.  
“Come on.”  
And Draco walked up the drive to Number Four, still holding hands with Harry Potter, who peered inside and barked, “Dudley! Sod off before I hex you.”  
A whimper from inside.   
“They-they’ll ex-expel you!”  
“Maybe I’ve decided I don’t care.”  
Another whimper, and shuffling. Harry opened the door and pulled Draco through the now-empty hall, up a staircase (“Skip the bottom step”) and into a bedroom, shutting the door behind them.  
“What was that?”  
“Had to get my cousin out of the way so he wouldn’t see you.”  
“You’re…hiding me?” Draco stared at this astounding person sitting on the bed as though he hid former Dark wizards in his house every day.  
“Well, not as though my aunt and uncle would let you stay. They only let me stay because Dumbledore sent them a Howler when they tried to kick me out.”  
“I always figured you had a good life,” said Draco, who was privately grateful that this new shock had the effect of bringing him out of the panic attack instead of driving him further into it. Harry laughed without humor.  
“You said your father doesn’t treat you any better than he does anyone else? My uncle treats everyone fine but me. I’ve had bars on my windows, been locked in a cupboard for weeks, had my food pushed through the cat flap there—” He indicated the door in which there was, indeed, a cat flap. “I’ve gone without dinner more times than I can count, my cousin used to hit me until I could threaten him with magic, my aunt and uncle knew and didn’t do anything about it, and I didn’t know I was a wizard, let alone famous, until Hagrid showed up at the front door because they kept destroying my letters.”   
Draco gaped at him.   
“And yet you’re willing to hide me?”  
Harry shrugged. “I’ve taken your wand.”  
“Not that. I mean, with all he’s done to you, you didn’t even think twice about keeping me and you know it would make him mad if he found out.”  
“Well, I can’t just leave you. And I’m not afraid of him. Never have been, really.”  
Gryffindors, thought Draco. There was no way a Slytherin would do something possibly completely detrimental to his own well-being, that wouldn’t do anything whatsoever to help himself. Then again, most Gryffindors wouldn’t either, as far as he knew. Harry was the exception to most rules. Which was why Draco had come to him. That selfless courage…He thought about how his own father had treated him, which was somewhat worse than what Potter’s uncle had done, but…not afraid. Draco was afraid of his father. Draco was nearly driven out of his senses by thoughts and memories of his father. Draco would never have hidden Harry. And Harry, Harry had simply refused to acknowledge the power his uncle had over him. Never have been, really. Even before he knew that he could hurt them far worse than they could hurt him.   
Draco looked at Harry with new eyes. That selfless, slightly idiotic courage became a forgiveness and strength nothing short of incredible. It was beautiful.  
He was beautiful.  
“Merlin’s beard, I must be tired,” said Draco out loud.  
“You can sleep here. Though I don’t know what I’m going to do with you after that. I can only sneak so much food without the Dursleys noticing. And somehow I think it’ll be difficult to talk Ron and Hermione into sending food.”  
Draco laughed a little.  
“I only need to stay for a day. Day after tomorrow’s my birthday and I’ll be able to use magic and fend for myself.”  
“That makes things easier for me,” Harry agreed, “but where will you go?”  
“Away. I want no part in this war.”  
“I can’t convince you to just switch sides?”  
“Potter, I’m not helping my father anymore. But I’m not quite ready to point a wand at him, either.”  
Harry studied him for a moment.  
“No,” he agreed after a minute, “I guess not.”  
He didn’t pretend that Draco wouldn’t have to make that choice, and Draco was grateful for it.  
“You can have the bed,” said Harry.  
Draco stared at him. “It’s your house. Keep your bed. You’ve done enough.”  
“Who knows when you’re going to get a proper bed again if you’re going on the run?”  
Draco couldn’t find a counter-argument to that. Harry brought up some leftover quiche, which Draco devoured hungrily. He then flopped back onto Harry’s bed, his eyes closing immediately out of exhaustion.  
“You should change clothes,” said Harry gently.  
“Got to be ready to leave at any moment if he finds me,” said Draco sleepily.  
“You’re sleeping in your shoes, then?”  
“Mm-hm.”  
He didn’t have the energy to explain to Harry how much safer he felt with his shoes on. Except…  
“Unless you don’t want my shoes on your bed. I can take them off.”  
“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry, and something about the way he said it made Draco actually stop worrying about it. “Just wanted you to be comfortable.”  
“Where are you going to sleep?”  
“Here on the floor.”  
That still seemed wrong.  
“At least take the blanket,” said Draco, rolling off it and pushing it off the bed at Harry.  
“Okay,” said Harry, and Draco thought he heard a smile in Harry’s voice. He listened to Harry make a bed out of the blanket and curled up in it. But it wasn’t too much later that he wished he hadn’t been so magnanimous. It was cold in this house without a blanket. He was actually starting to shiver. He couldn’t sleep this cold. Between the cold and the exhaustion, he couldn’t even think straight to come up with something to do about it. The whole thing seemed to his addled brain like a premonition of the difficult thing life was about to become. Where would he go? There was so much ahead of him that he didn’t understand yet. He felt grown up all of a sudden, all on his own, much faster than he’d ever expected or wanted. He didn’t like it. Being a child was so much easier.  
“Draco?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I can hear your teeth chattering.”  
Draco grunted. He heard Harry move, and then the bed descended beside him.  
“What’re ya doin’?” he muttered.  
“Being sensible.”  
He felt the blanket, warm from Harry’s body heat, cover him, and Harry himself curl up next to him.  
It was incredibly strange, having another body in the bed with him. And yet, kind of nice. Still. Married couples slept in the same bed. That was how he had always been taught. Sometimes boys and girls slept together before marriage, but not two boys.   
“Harry…”  
“What?”  
“We can’t share a bed. It isn’t right.”  
“Open your mind, Draco. Neither of us is going to get to sleep any other way. It’s not like we’re going to do anything.”  
Draco steadfastly ignored the part of his mind that felt slightly disappointed. He was too tired to argue further. He let himself relax and approach sleep.  
Harry Potter was both exactly what he had expected and a complete surprise. He had lived nearly as badly as Draco, more like Draco than he had ever realized, but yet he was so much stronger. He was strong enough to hide Draco against his uncle’s wishes, strong enough to break convention and share his bed, strong enough to not fear, but simply cope.  
Draco wished he could live like that.


	10. Winter's Dream

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 10: Winter’s Dream

He was falling, falling—ouch! He hit—trapped in a black lake, no, a whirlpool, swirling around with fall leaves, dragging him down, down, under, he couldn’t breathe, he was disintegrating under the water.  
Draco woke with a start. That dream again. He went over the dream in his mind, breathing evenly, which was, he knew from experience, the best way to keep from falling asleep and continuing the dream.  
It was a dream he’d had often, and it didn’t scare him much anymore, more like a familiar face saying hello. But today it felt like a warning, he would drown if he stayed put. He was only alive because he’d woken up.  
He realized that Harry had draped an arm over Draco in his sleep and smiled slightly. People didn’t touch Draco, they just didn’t. He’d gone through a phase where he didn’t let anyone touch him, and although he had got over it, everyone else hadn’t. The few fleeting touches he got from his parents had disappeared entirely. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Blaise didn’t touch him. It was lonely sometimes. But here was Harry Potter, touching him, ever since he showed up at his door.   
He wanted to stay, here with Harry, here with feeling like something that mattered, but he couldn’t. He would drown. He would cease to breathe.  
And he couldn’t let his father find Harry.  
It was ironic, he thought, that he was going into hiding, hunting for a cave to wait out the winter in, in the middle of summer, his favorite season.


	11. Shellfish

Pt. 1: Meander  
Chapter 11: Shellfish

“Happy birthday, Draco,” said Harry. Draco blinked sleepily.  
“Hmmm?” He focused with some struggle, and saw Harry sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, holding out some toast and jam. “Happy birthday,” Harry repeated, proffering the toast. Draco reached out for it.  
“Thank you,” he said softly.  
“Welcome.”   
Draco ate the toast in silence. It tasted delicious.  
“Harry?” he asked when he had finished.  
“Yeah?”  
“What did you mean last night, open my mind? And, not going to do anything?”  
Harry flushed a little and looked away.  
“It’s not wrong to sleep in the same bed,” he said finally.   
“As long as you don’t have sex?”  
“Well, that’s not wrong either. I don’t think. I just meant there was nothing to be antsy about, because I wasn’t going to try anything…you know.”  
“I didn’t think you were,” said Draco. “My father always said it was wrong for boys to sleep in the same bed. That it was generally wrong to be in the same bed with anyone before getting married.”  
“I think your father was using ‘sleep in the same bed’ as a euphemism for sex,” said Harry bluntly. “And if he was wrong about everything else, why not this?”  
“I never said he was wrong about everything,” said Draco, feeling slightly protective. “He’s still my father, Harry, and I know I’m trespassing on your hospitality here, but I’ve been as nice as I know how, and you don’t need to be rude about him.”  
“I’m sorry,” said Harry, even redder now and still not looking at him. “But it isn’t wrong for boys to like each other that way, Draco. To want to kiss each other. And stuff. I can’t believe that.”  
“Why can’t you?”  
“I can’t believe that,” said Harry again, and Draco understood.  
“Oh.”  
Harry changed the subject then, and Draco let him, but his mind kept wandering back to a couple of things.  
One, he wasn’t as disturbed as he thought he would be at the thought of Harry kissing boys. Two, he wasn’t even very disturbed at the thought of Harry kissing him, or ‘trying something’. Three, everything Harry said or did made Draco like him more, admire him more, or find him more attractive. He was kind to Draco. He didn’t mention the Order or Ron and Hermione or Draco’s family, and just distracted him, easily talking about anything and everything. He was actually letting Draco have a halfway decent birthday. And he was incredibly brave and good-hearted. None of that Gryffindor selflessness was an act. He gave Draco his own knapsack to replace his carpetbag, saying it would be easier to carry.  
All of it made Draco want to simply stay. And all of it convinced him beyond a doubt that he couldn’t.  
When it was starting to get dark, Draco was still thinking about Harry kissing boys, and trying to imagine who he might have done it with. Weasley? That produced a disgusting mental picture. Finnegan? Thomas? An older Weasley? Then he imagined Harry kissing him, in a third-person kind of way.   
“Draco?” Draco started, and realized he must be flushed. It was nearly impossible to hide on his skin.  
Sure enough, Harry leaned over and laid a hand on his cheek.  
“You’re all red. You okay?”  
The touch of that hand excited Draco in strange new ways, and gave him the courage to ask.  
“Harry…would you give me one last birthday present?”  
Harry’s expression told Draco he knew what Draco meant, but wasn’t sure enough to make a move.  
“What do you want?” he asked breathily. His face was close enough that Draco could see his dilated pupils.   
“That stuff you said you weren’t going to try with me…would you try it?”  
Harry just looked at him for a fraction of a second. Then, he moved closer, closer, not breaking eye contact, even when Draco’s eyes went out of focus for the proximity. Their eyes closed at the same second that their lips met.  
xxx  
The next morning, Draco got up, leaving Harry still asleep in the bed, and packed up his new knapsack. He was almost ready to slip out the door unnoticed when Harry woke up.  
“Draco?”  
He fumbled for his glasses and put them on, then saw Draco. His face fell.  
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” he whispered.  
“It seemed easier this way,” Draco whispered back.  
“Don’t,” said Harry. “Don’t ever just leave without saying goodbye.”  
“I’m sorry,” said Draco. “But I can’t stay.”  
“That…isn’t because of…last night, is it?” asked Harry, not looking at him.  
“No,” Draco assured him, crossing the room and tilting Harry’s chin up so they had to look at each other. “Last night was the best birthday present ever. And it just made me certain that I can’t stay.” Harry seemed ready to protest, so Draco cut him off before he could start. “You can’t come with me, because you have to kill the Dark Lord. And I can’t stay and fight. Neither of us are ready for this. I’m not even ready to know who I am, okay?” Harry nodded glumly. “And,” said Draco with an air of finality, “I refuse to give my father one more reason to hurt you.”  
“Maybe someday?” whispered Harry.  
“Maybe someday,” Draco whispered back. Conflicting emotions of every sort tumbled about inside his mind, but he turned and walked away.  
xxx  
Draco left the country and made his way to Sweden. He fished there, supporting himself, and learning how to live as his own man. Not much later, he received news that Harry Potter had killed the Dark Lord at last. And he wondered if Harry Potter remembered that day together as often as he did, and whether Harry was happy without him.  
For a while, he was able to convince himself that Harry was, and stay away.  
Eventually, he had to be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry asked for some privacy, so even I don't know how far they went that night. :)


	12. Changeless

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 1: Changeless  
Technically Somewhat of an Interlude

Harry couldn’t go back to sleep after Draco left. It seemed so surreal, meeting for just a day and a half and learning so much about each other, only to part.   
We might never see each other again, he thought. I could die. He could die.  
What were the odds they’d both come out of this war alive?  
He thought of Draco’s expression when he asked Harry to kiss him. He was really beautiful, especially that smile. Harry wondered if he’d miss that smile.  
Harry had never felt so emotionally connected to someone he had just met. Which was funny, considering he’d known Draco even longer than Ron and Hermione, but he knew they hadn’t really known each other until Draco showed up at his door.  
He thought that their time together would give him strength to face the coming battle. There really wasn’t anything like the comfort gleaned from holding and being held, from knowing without words that you were both in this together. He hoped he’d given Draco some strength, too. He didn’t begrudge his leaving and not fighting. It was clear that for Draco, walking away from his father was about as scary as Harry facing a dragon, or a basilisk. Harry wouldn’t ask more of him. Even though the battle people would talk of was not yet fought, Draco had fought his own battle, and Harry didn’t need to wait for the end of the war to feel like giving Draco a standing ovation for his courage.  
“Go,” he whispered to his pillow. “Do what you have to do.”  
If Draco had to leave, Harry wished him well on his travels with a full heart and only hoped they would meet again someday.  
Harry could wait.


	13. Paloma

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 2: Paloma

Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters are captured and sent to Azkaban, including his father. His father.  
Draco is free.  
He looks around his tiny house. He has been here for almost a year, but it isn’t home. It is, however, safe.  
There are good things about it. He loves the storms, the sound of the thunder booming overhead and the rain falling on the roof.  
Is it worth leaving?  
Is it worth going back to England, back to where everyone knows his face, will condemn him as the son of a Death Eater, back to where he knows the land and where Harry lives?  
Will he miss it here?  
Weigh your options, Draco, he can hear his mother saying. If he goes, he will be prosecuted, condemned, but he will settle down, live in London, maybe, if he can afford it, and find out if Harry still wants him.   
He still remembers that day with Harry. He doesn’t think of him every day. It’s not like they were together, after all. It’s not like he was in love with Harry. He spent one magical day with him. Is it worth the pain to find closure for that one day of his life?  
If he stays, he will be safe. He will go on doing exactly what he is doing. For ever.  
His gut recoils at the thought. Safe and boring.  
If he goes, he will have to rebuild his life. Build a new life.  
He may be able to make something out of the tatters of life he left behind.  
Or he might have to start over entirely, beg, borrow, and steal his way to find the tiniest piece of England to call his own.  
He already has a place to call his own here.  
He remembers the last time he was making a decision to leave somewhere. Then he was running for his life, running out of fear, not courage at all. This would be walking back into fear. This would take courage.  
This might save what remained of his soul, or destroy it. If he even still had one.  
He could ask Harry. Harry was sure to know.  
One person who might look at him with kindness. Might.  
Then again, Draco suddenly realized, no one cared about him here, either. Only here it was in the somewhat more bearable sense of really not giving a flying flobberworm what became of him, rather than wanting him dead.  
He dares to allow himself a tiny hope that not everyone wanted him dead in England, either.  
Freedom is not as easy as Draco thought.  
He steps outside and stares up at the sky. A flock of birds passes overhead. Lucky things. They can go anywhere, and not fear.  
That’s not true, he can hear his father saying. There are predators everywhere. Birds leave their home because it is unbearable to stay, not because they will be safe where they go.  
You will always wonder, he can hear his mother saying. If you don’t go, you will always wonder what could have been.  
Well, then.

xxx

Draco took a room above what used to be Fortescue’s and wrote a letter to Harry Potter.

Potter,  
Congratulations on your defeat of the Dark Lord. I am back in London. Care to meet me for a drink? Kindly send a reply by your owl, as this one is surprisingly expensive.

It took him far too long to decide how to sign the letter. Draco seemed too personal, Malfoy too distant. Finally he decided on Draco Malfoy and sent the letter off with the impatient brown owl.  
Potter’s owl came back surprisingly fast.

Draco, (Draco it was, then)  
Love to. The Three Broomsticks, tomorrow at five?  
Harry

Draco scrawled out a quick affirmative and sent it back with Potter’s owl.  
The next day at five, Draco opened the door of the Three Broomsticks and found Harry already there, clutching a butterbeer and looking nervous sitting by himself at a table. As Draco approached, Harry, apparently hearing him, turned and grinned.  
“Draco!” He stood and opened his arms for a hug. Draco was floored. One day, one night together, and he warranted not only a first name, but a grin and a hug from the Boy-Who-Saved-The-World-Twice. Not wanting to disappoint, he stepped into the hug and returned it as best as he knew how. Several customers were now openly goggling at him. They sat down, and Harry surreptitiously cast several spells under his breath. Draco gave him a questioning look. “Protection spells,” Harry answered it. “Deflect attention, muffle our conversation, and basic shields in case there are any nutters in here.” Draco nodded, suitably impressed. Of course Harry would know spells like that what with Death Eaters and fame to contend with. He was surely used to avoiding as much attention as possible.  
“Wish you’d stayed,” said Harry after a minute. “I’m glad you were safe, though. You left not a day too soon. They sprung a trap for me the day you left, and I only just got out. I don’t want to know what would have happened if you’d been there too.”  
Draco could imagine. He could have gotten trapped while Harry escaped, or caused Harry to slow enough that he got trapped. Not to mention how hard avoiding his father would have been.  
“Merlin,” he said suddenly. “The night I left. They were planning something. They were all gone, so I was the only one in the house, which was how I was able to leave. I didn’t even think about what they were doing. They were probably setting your trap then. I could have ruined everything by going to you.”   
“Ruined everything for me, you mean?” said Harry, and he looked oddly touched. “I’m just glad you did get out. You scared me half to death, showing up like that, shaking like a leaf. It was a difficult thing you did, Draco. I’m proud of you. And I’m glad you were able to come to me, especially if I was able to help you be less scared.”  
Draco wasn’t sure who moved, but they were abruptly holding hands across the table. This was moving faster than he’d expected.  
“Look, Potter,” he said, then stopped and started over with a softer tone of voice. “Harry. I feel like you’re assuming we were long distance boyfriends or something while I was away and you were fighting, like we’re just going to be in a relationship all of a sudden.”  
Harry’s face fell. “Do you not want that?” Draco chose his words carefully.  
“I don’t know what I want, because I didn’t let it get that far in my head. I didn’t know what you were expecting. Merlin, I didn’t even know if we were both still going to be alive. So I never let myself think of it as more than a really intimate couple of days together that helped me find the strength to leave. Now I come back here and it seems like you’ve already progressed to going steady in your mind, only you got there without me. I’m still on ‘where do we stand now’. So can we just slow down? Figure things out a little at a time?”  
Harry looked more cheerful.  
“All right,” he said. “You’re right, I did let it be more than that in my mind. It helped me, to think of it as more than a one-time thing. But then, that’s one of the differences between us. I work better for ideals. You work better for the practical truth.” He took a breath. “So, where we stand? I think you pretty much said where you stand. Where I stand is, our time together meant a lot to me, and I’d like to try dating you for real. What do you say?”  
Draco allowed himself to relax and smile. “Yes.” And when Harry looked a little confused, he clarified. “I say yes.”


	14. This Is My Song

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 3: This Is My Song

Sometimes Draco thinks he and Luck just missed each other in the street somewhere. Why did he end up with the family he did? Why did he have to be the person whose giant, life-changing decision was as simple as Get Out? Harry, even Weasley and Granger, in fact, everyone on the Order’s side if he thought about it, made the decision to put their lives on the line and get killed. The best he could do was refuse to help kill them. And he didn’t even do that in person, he packed up like a coward and left. He doesn’t know that anyone has ever loved him. He doesn’t know that anyone really saw him and liked him but Harry. And here he is, trying to have a relationship that’s really complicated in his head with the most complicated person he knows, and it’s almost too simple.   
For all Harry professed to having been using the thought of him as courage, for all he scared Draco by talking as though they were in a proper relationship, Harry’s life simply didn’t include a niche Draco could just slip into and be. Draco had taken a little apartment from a wizard who was so old he didn’t care who was on what side in the war and didn’t even seem to be sure which war Draco had been in. They’d set up a few more dates, and Draco had quickly discovered from idle conversation that Harry had a busy life. He was an Auror, constantly being called away to come help with Death Eater rounding up, backup for the other departments, Ministry official meetings, ceremonies, memorial services, media events, and countless other things. The Ministry was undergoing a complete overhaul, and apparently Harry was essential to the process. He was still good friends with Granger and Weasley, and was helping them plan their wedding. Many of their old Hogwarts classmates were getting matched up, in fact, and Harry was invited to all their weddings. Weddings, meetings, and ceremonies they could plan around, but often the free time Harry could find to spend with Draco was during his on-call time for his ordinary Auror duties, and about half the time he ended up having to rush out, apologizing, throwing money down, and leaving Draco to settle the bill with the restaurant or wherever they happened to be. Draco always assured him it was okay, but honestly he wished Harry wasn’t so busy. He was growing surer and surer that had he never come back, Harry’s life was in well enough functioning order that he could have got along fine, probably more easily without a boyfriend to deal with.   
Well, he always had Hope to get him through until Luck showed up. Hope would be enough. Hope had always been enough, to get him through his childhood, teen years, and what he’d experienced of adulthood. He was alive, after all.  
Hope would be enough now.  
He thought.


	15. What About Everything?

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 4: What About Everything?  


He didn’t need Harry. Draco relied on himself and only himself, and yes, Harry was nice, but Harry would eventually grow bored with him. 

That was okay. Really. Draco enjoyed being in England again, Harry or no. He’d got himself a decent job using Arithmancy, one of the only subjects he’d found came so intuitively that he’d actually gotten an O on his OWL and continued to get top marks up until he ran, despite the stress levels that had caused all his other grades to plummet. He’d also enjoyed the fact that Granger had had to work to be top of that class along with all her others, while if it was possible to get higher than an O in the class, Draco would have, practically without trying. It was fun, actually, using those skills again instead of doing the mentally thankless task of fishing. He was so good at it that the witch who’d hired him on probation due to his name had actually become friendly and let him have access to the most cryptic documents, which were the first genuine challenge the subject had offered him. He had cleaned up the little apartment and used some of his first paycheck to buy a decent lamp for the place and some books on the more obscure branches of Arithmancy, particularly how it mixed with Potions, his second-best subject. He was putting aside a few Galleons with every paycheck to eventually buy a new piano. He missed the feel of the keys under his fingertips ever since he and Harry had gone to a bar that had a man come in and play the piano on Friday nights for entertainment. It hadn’t been a Friday, so Draco had asked if he could have a go, just to see if he remembered. The owner, a kind but wary witch, had agreed, provided she kept an eye on him while he did it. It had taken him a few minutes to get back into the flow of the instrument, and he never did work up into the more complicated pieces, his favorites, but by the time he felt compelled to back to Harry and their meal, the witch was smiling and he wanted to play the piano again. He hadn’t mentioned it to Harry for fear the other man would want to buy it for him, with all that money he hadn’t lost, and as an apology for being a less than ideal boyfriend. 

Always came back to that, didn’t it? But honestly. He had a job, he had a home. He was actually enjoying himself. He was going to play his instrument again. If this relationship ended tomorrow, he would at least have all the connections he’d made, all the scowls that were now smiles, thanks to his association with Harry allowing people to see past his face and name. And really, there were bigger problems in the world. So many people had died during that war, which he tried not to think about ( _I could have saved them if I’d fought, no, no you weren’t strong enough and not even Harry blames you but I blame me_ ), families broken, homes and buildings destroyed, and those that had survived were changed irrevocably, yes, even him, but in more tangible ways. He’d met with Granger and Weasley a couple times, who were surprisingly civil, if only civil, and he could sense the difference, the hardness that wasn’t there before and would never go away. He and Harry had gone stargazing once, and he had thought about how small they were compared to the moon and stars, and it had been a perfect night until Harry had been called away.

It didn’t matter. He’d stayed, watching the sky until he fell asleep there and woke up wet, and walked back home to the dawn, which was beautiful too, and smiled at some stubborn autumn leaves that refused to let go of the tree, despite it being well past their time. 

He had an idea that he was like those leaves, holding on to a hopeless situation, but he tried not to think about that too much. He and Harry were having a good time together. That was all that mattered. The split was inevitable, but there was no need to force it to come early, not while it was good. Draco didn’t need more.


	16. Grey Sky Eyes

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 5: Grey Sky Eyes  
Harry stared into Draco’s eyes as they sat across from each other at the table. They were having one of those moments Harry treasured so much, where they simply sat and watched each other and felt no need to talk or look away. Harry loved looking at Draco’s eyes. They were a beautiful stormy grey that reminded him of a London sky. He tried not to look too often, because it still felt too intimate, and Draco had been spooked last time Harry had talked like that. But every time he did, he felt like he was seeing through the body armor Draco wore for everyone else, as though at his eyes it wasn’t armor but merely a very thin veil. He was infinitely grateful that Draco was able to let him in that much. Draco was a constant mystery that Harry was content to allow to unravel at its own pace, only prodding for more pieces when Draco was open to it, like the time when he’d played the piano at their favorite restaurant, and told Harry he hadn’t played since the night before he ran away, and Harry had been amazed he was still so good. He had tried not to seem surprised, in fact, he tried not to let on how much he wanted to learn about Draco and how much he wanted to be around him more. If only it weren’t for his stupid job. He was seriously considering either asking for less on-call hours or asking Draco if he wanted to tag along on some of the not too dangerous assignments—Draco, after all, could take care of himself.   
Harry continued to stare at Draco’s London fog eyes and wondered what kind of sky they were. They weren’t a raining sky, which was good, but they didn’t glow the way they had that one night, either. Harry wondered if there was something he could do to make them glow again, or if he and Draco simply weren’t what he’d hoped.   
He dispelled that thought. They’d been taking it plenty slow, keeping it at the medium committed dating stage for weeks now. Now was the time to figure out if they could handle more. He’d ask Draco tomorrow.


	17. Life Less Ordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the girl who wasn’t my girlfriend.

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 6: Life Less Ordinary

They were walking hand in hand through Muggle London, just to get a break from all the staring, when Harry asked.  
“Draco?”  
“Mm?”  
“I was thinking. Half the dates we go on are interrupted by the Aurors calling.”  
Draco carefully wiped his expression blank. Here it comes, he thought. He doesn’t have time for me. He needs to end this.  
“I don’t like running off and abandoning you all the time, especially when you’d probably actually be interested in what I do, and I know you can defend yourself, so I was wondering if you wanted to come along next time it happened.”  
Draco lost his blank expression and practically gaped at Harry.  
“Too fast?” asked Harry, sounding apologetic. Draco couldn’t find the words. “I’m sorry if you don’t want to go there, I mean, it does kind of say something about us to the public if I take you to work with me. I don’t want to push you away. I just feel like we’re never going to get anywhere if I just keep leaving you places. I don’t like leaving you behind.”  
“You don’t have room for me in your life.” That wasn’t really what Draco had meant to say, he was sure.  
“Well, no,” said Harry, now looking confused. “That’s why I’m making room.”  
And that was Harry all over, wasn’t it, instead of doing the sensible thing and cutting out the surplus that was taking up all of his spare time, he was making it fit, making the rules bend to him just because he didn’t see any other way. Draco kissed him hungrily. Harry responded happily, and it quickly turned into the most passionate kiss they’d had since that day in Number Four. Some Muggles wolf-whistled, and Harry broke away, laughing.  
“Anyone would think I’d asked you to move in with me,” he said.  
“Would you?” asked Draco, only half joking.  
“If I thought you were ready for that,” said Harry.  
“If I was?”  
“In a heartbeat.”  
Draco kissed him again, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer.  
“What?” asked Harry, now only a couple inches away. Draco did not let go of his waist.  
“I thought you didn’t mean it, all you said in the pub,” he whispered. “You have such a complete life, I thought you didn’t really need me in it.”  
“I should have asked you weeks ago,” Harry whispered back. “I should be asking you today if you want to move in. I thought I was moving too fast, and I was moving too slowly. I want to be with you, Draco Malfoy. I want you to be part of my life. I want to be part of yours. What should I do to make you see that?”  
“I think moving in is a bit fast, considering how much trouble we still seem to have with communication,” said Draco. “How about you just ask me to live life with you? Not spend forever with you, yet, but the life you have right now.”  
“Okay,” said Harry, grinning. “Draco, will you live life with me? I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise it’ll be so much more than ordinary.”  
“Yes,” whispered Draco, and they were kissing in the middle of the street again, and everything looked as if it would be all right.


	18. Raise the Roof

Pt. 2: Indian Summer  
Chapter 7: Raise the Roof

And then they did move in together, and it was everything Draco had been afraid to want and Harry had been afraid to offer, and every new thing they did together, from learning that Draco made better waffles than Harry to finding that, although Draco was a morning person and Harry a night owl, Draco could be persuaded to stargaze with Harry, and, much less frequently, Harry could be persuaded to get up to watch the sunrise with Draco, was incredible beyond words.  
It was like they’d both been hiding from the truth that was love and they had finally opened their eyes and saw each other. It was like watching the stars and the sunrise and each other, things they’d known for so long, become not ordinary but beautiful, as they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Harry as the day broke or Draco as the night dragged on and they still lay in the grass, or both of them in bed if it was a workday, and woke up to find the other one still there most of the time.  
To tell the truth, Draco was still terrified. Nobody had ever had his heart like this, nobody had ever seen him so clearly, and the thought that it might have an end still gripped him with terror sometimes, and he had to turn and watch Harry until he became imprinted on the inside of Draco’s eyelids and couldn’t be anything but real. It was a dance of love that Draco was dancing for all he was worth, but the best of dancers must rest. Draco could only hope that he would last until the end, for he was fully determined to love until he died.


	19. On Any Given Day

Pt. 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 1: On Any Given Day

Draco rolled over, and Harry wasn’t there.  
Crushing disappointment rolled through him even before he opened his eyes. He took several deep breaths and forced it down. Harry had to leave before he woke up. That was something Draco had to live with. When he thought he could handle the contents, he opened his eyes and reached for the note on the bedside table.

Auror business. Too dangerous. Sorry. I know how you hate this.  
Harry

Draco reminded himself that Harry would have stayed if he could, or brought Draco with him, but it was at times like these that all of Draco’s fears came back. He rolled out of bed and went down for breakfast, determined to distract himself.   
After breakfast, he got in the car and drove to the seaside. He had learned to drive after running from the war, and it was a comfortingly routine action. It didn’t help drive Harry from his mind, though. He walked on the beach for a little while, staring jealously at couples. They looked so in love, as though nothing could hurt them. Draco could tell them a thing or two. When he was ready for lunch, he went down to the row of little shops and window shopped while he ate his hot dog.  
Everything was for Harry.  
That shirt would look wonderful with his eyes. He would love that jacket. If those boots had been dragonskin, they’d have been perfect. Even a stupid glittery pinecone that Harry would no doubt have loved to decorate the house with. Draco both loved and hated this simplicity that was Harry’s taste. He could appreciate a shirt picked just for him, but he could appreciate a child’s craft quite as much.  
He didn’t get back to their flat until after dark. He wandered into their bedroom, intending to change clothes, and—Harry. Harry was there, curled around a pillow as though he wished it was Draco, fast asleep, still in his clothes.  
All of Draco’s fears of being cast away, of Harry’s abandoning him, evaporated in a rush of love and pity for his Harry, who had such a stressful job and somehow managed to make time for it and Draco both. He stripped and climbed into bed after Harry, curling around him. Harry shifted in his sleep, and Draco drew back, thinking he had hit some new injury or that Harry simply didn’t want to be touched just now, but Harry turned over and buried his face in Draco’s chest, apparently still asleep. Draco pulled him gently close and fell asleep resolving to buy Harry that stupid pinecone and green shirt both for Christmas.


	20. The Boxer

Pt. 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 2: The Boxer

Draco woke and stretched, yawning lazily.   
“Morning.” Draco turned over and smiled at Harry.  
“Morning.”   
“What’d you do yesterday?” Draco thought back, and his good mood dipped slightly.  
“Went the seaside and window shopped.”  
Harry’s brows furrowed.  
“You didn’t go to work?”   
Draco sat up straight in bed.  
“Work! Melissa! I completely forgot!” He jumped out of bed and ran to the fireplace, lighting a fire as he went. He grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire, which roared emerald green. Draco said, “Nottingwood’s Numerology,” and stuck his head through. There was the usual uncomfortable whirling sensation.  
“Melissa!” he shouted, and his boss, Melissa Nottingwood, hurried into view.  
“Draco! What happened?”  
“I forgot to come in yesterday! I’m so sorry.”  
Her expression changed from worry to incredulity. “You forgot? I couldn’t get you by Floo, by owl, and you’re telling me you forgot? How does one forget to come to work?”  
“I—Harry wasn’t here, and I was upset, and distracted, and I had to get out of the house. And it was Monday. I completely forgot it was Monday. I’m so sorry. I’ll be in as soon as I can get dressed.”  
“No need for that; the store doesn’t open for another two hours. Just don’t be late. Or forget again.” She turned away, and Draco, knowing himself dismissed, pulled his head out of the fire.  
“I wasn’t there and you were upset?” Harry’s voice was dangerous behind him. Draco had almost forgotten he was there. He turned, but didn’t meet Harry’s eyes  
“I—it hurts when you aren’t there. When you can’t bring me. You know that. I had to do something to take my mind off it.”  
“So you up and forgot that you have a very mentally taxing job to take your mind off things, and went to the seaside. I don’t understand. Do you still think you don’t matter just because I can’t do every little thing with you?”  
Draco dropped his eyes to the floor and stepped sideways, away from both Harry and the fireplace.  
“I just forgot, Harry. I don’t see what I can do about forgetting things.”  
“It’s why you forgot that matters! I don’t see what more I can do to convince you that I want you around, and the second I have to go to work, to do my job that saves lives, you’re so completely consumed by hurt, so convinced I don’t give a damn, that you forget you have responsibilities, like me! Is that it, Draco? Your job matters so little to you that you randomly take days off because you’re upset, so you think I should randomly take days off when it doesn’t suit you?” Draco bristled.  
“I know your job matters! Your job has always mattered! You wanted to be an Auror back when you were fifteen, back when I was nothing but an inconvenience to you!”   
“Oh, don’t play that card! You sound like a child complaining that the older sibling gets more attention! Do I give you less than Daddy did? Should I form my entire life to revolve around your convenience? He made it look like he did that, didn’t he, all my son is a Malfoy, my son gets the best, but he was a bloody Death Eater and sold you for glory.” Draco glanced at him, and Harry suddenly looked like Lucius, despite having all the wrong coloring, with his chin lifted as though to suggest he was better. Then he dropped his chin and the image changed, but Draco was angry now.  
“Don’t you insult my father! I know what he did, Potter, but he was still my father and he loved me! And I loved him!” Draco could feel blood coloring his cheeks and lips, the embarrassment, the shame, the burning loyalty underneath it all. Harry’s face hardened.  
“Oh, I remember. You loved him so much you couldn’t even stop him from murdering people.” Harry’s voice was cold. Draco slowly locked eyes with his lover. Harry’s expression faltered, as though he knew he’d gone too far, but Draco didn’t care. He turned his back on Harry and began to change into his work clothes.  
“I’m going to work,” he said with no inflection, and he did not look at Harry again as he made himself presentable enough to step into the fireplace and Floo to Melissa’s.


	21. Wandrin' Around

Pt. 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 3: Wanderin’ Around

“I told you not to bother coming in early…” Melissa’s voice trailed off as she got a good look at Draco.  
“It was better than staying home,” he answered dully.  
“Do you want to talk?” she asked quietly.  
Draco plopped down on one of the wooden chairs placed there so customers could sit and look through possible purchases.   
“Harry and I had a fight,” he said. That seemed to be enough for Melissa, who squeezed his shoulder roughly and left him to stew in his own misery while she prepared to open the shop.   
_Should I form my entire life to revolve around your convenience?_ Harry’s voice echoed in his thoughts, rebounding off the sides of his mind so he heard the cruel words again and again. _You loved him so much you couldn’t even stop him from murdering people._  
Draco fought tears reflexively. He hadn’t cried since he was a small child, even when hit by his father, even when in the throes of panic attacks, and he wasn’t about to start now.  
Melissa went to open the door and let Cecily Humming, the shop girl, in. Draco didn’t like Cessy, for the simple reason that she didn’t like him, but when Cessy caught sight of him, she gasped a little and said, “Merlin! What happened?”  
“Leave me,” said Draco, trying to sound as cold as Lucius, but Cessy surprised him by throwing her arms around him.  
“What the—Gerroff!”  
She let go, but stared into his eyes from a few inches away. Draco fought the urge to back away.  
“Cecily, what on earth are you doing? Get over here, we’ll have customers in the minute. Draco, go work on your projects.”  
Draco ambled into the back room, still feeling unsettled, and lit the lamp with a wave of his wand. It was the size of the front shop, but while the shop had large windows, chairs, and kitschy things for sale to offset the thousands of books crammed into its walls, this room had only a single light, a medium sized table, and two chairs to do the same job. The walls were, floor to ceiling, filled with books and files, and the floor was covered with stacks of them. Not piles, mind; Draco was extremely organized about his stacks and always knew where everything was. The latest ancient scroll, combined with a stack of blank parchment, two quills, ink, and the various books needed to understand and decode the scroll, took up most of the table. Draco cast a Warming Charm and settled himself into one of the chairs. He scanned the work he’d left there on Friday to remind himself of where he’d left off, and slowly began to ease into the rhythm of the work. An hour or two in, a customer wanted her birth diagrams explained, and Melissa brought her in to see Draco, who pushed the current scroll aside to make room, quickly read the diagrams over, and explained the discrepancy.  
“No, see, the bit for frustration is in the general life triangle. That could mean spending awhile, well, having trouble making ends meet, or having a very satisfying job with a very irritating boss for many years. The joy is in the love triangle. So even while you’re having this very frustrating life, you’re completely in love with your significant other, or will be, and you’ll be very happy as long as you’re together.”  
“Oh,” she said, face lighting up. “They never explained about the triangles!” Draco patiently pointed out the different sections of the diagrams while the customer took notes. Afterwards, she thanked him profusely and he showed her back to the shop section. The shop was fuller than usual; they seemed to be doing a roaring trade. Melissa chatted with the customer for a second, then looked at Draco, who blinked and smiled, their code for “It was easy, charge her minimum price.” Melissa did so, and the customer dug a few Galleons out of her purse. Cessy, meanwhile, was wandering amongst the customers, helping them find things and offering advice.  
Draco passed the day like this, working on the scroll and occasionally seeing customers. Cessy and Melissa came in a couple times to pick up books that weren’t in the front shop, but otherwise left him pretty much alone. Cecily snarked at him the few times they met, a nice touch of their normal rivalry but…friendly now. There was no real intent to hurt behind her jabs at his work performance, antisocial personality, or perfect hair. He appreciated her attempt to distract him, and he wondered where the change had come from. Only Friday, every barb had been carefully pitched to be as painful as possible.  
When it finally came time to close, Draco wasn’t ready. He stayed stubbornly at his table, working away at his scroll and ignoring his watch until Melissa and Cecily came back and stared at him until he was forced to look up.  
“What?” he asked, knowing full well what.  
“You have to leave sometime,” said Melissa. “There’s no food in here, and I’m not leaving you the keys.”  
Draco thought about going home to Harry and couldn’t face it. He didn’t want to see if Harry was still mad at him. He didn’t want to see if Harry was sorry. He didn’t even want to see if Harry was still there.  
“Come on, Malfoy, you can come home with me,” said Cessy. Draco’s poised exterior completely dropped away in shock.  
“What?”  
“You heard me. Oh, don’t give me that look, I’m not trying to get into your robes. That’s what mates do, isn’t it? Let their mates stay over when they’re fighting with their boyfriends?”  
“We’re mates?” was all Draco could think to say. Since when? he didn’t dare add.  
“We are now,” said Cessy firmly.  
“Go on,” said Melissa. “I’m certainly not taking you in. My owl would have a fit.”  
So that was how Draco found himself at Cessy’s tiny flat.  
“I haven’t got two beds, so you’ll have to sleep on the floor. But I have enough blankets to make it comfortable, and they’re good about keeping it warm in here,” she said, and, indeed, coupled with a Cushioning Charm, the floor bed was quite comfortable and toasty warm. But Draco’s thoughts still cycled back to Harry, keeping him awake for hours. What was going to happen to him? What was going to happen to _them_?


	22. Desperation Song

Pt 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 4: Desperation Song

What was Draco doing now? How could Harry get him back? Could Harry get him back? Would he ever forgive Harry for the things he’d said? Was Draco feeling as panicky and desperate as Harry? What was Draco doing now?  


These thoughts looped through Harry’s head over and over. He hardly noticed that he was sitting at his desk with his latest mountain of paperwork sitting in front of him untouched.  


“Harry?”  


What could Harry possibly do to make it up to him?  


“Harry!”  


He jumped.  


“Hermione!”  


She sat down in front of him, shoved the paperwork aside, and planted her elbows on the table.  


“Now. You are going to tell me what’s wrong, and now.”  


“Draco and I had a fight,” he said miserably. “He didn’t come home last night.”  


She made a sympathetic noise and reached out to grasp his elbow. “Do you want to talk about it?”  


“It’s the same old thing,” he said. “He gets all panicky when I go out on call and he can’t come. Gets to thinking I don’t love him. And this last time it got so bad he actually forgot to go to work. I yelled at him.”  


“Have you thought that part of it is that he’s worried you won’t come home?” asked Hermione quietly.  


“No,” said Harry, looking up at her. “Do you think that’s it? He never says anything like that.”  


“I think that’s part of it,” said Hermione. “He’s afraid for your life and it manifests as anger at you for leaving him behind. Of course, he really does have a good handful of insecurities, and from the little you’ve told us, I think he was raised that way. The only thing he had to be proud of was that he was a Malfoy, and he gave that up, really, when he walked out on his family.”  


“You’re right, of course you’re right,” said Harry, burying his head in his hands.  


“Don’t jump to conclusions so quickly,” said Hermione, laughing a little. “Have you thought about whether the job is really more important than making him happy?”  


“Yes,” said Harry, “and if it were that simple, I’d pick him. But what would I do all day? I don’t want to be a housewife, and you know why I didn’t want to play Quidditch professionally. And I’m worried that next time we’ll get in an argument, I’ll say, or at least think, ‘I gave up my job for you’ and that’s a hell of a guilt trip.”  


“Look at it this way,” said Hermione. “Do you end up in the papers any less for being a Dark Wizard-catching Auror? Do you get favoured any less? Maybe a little, since it’s Kingsley, but still. You’re the poster boy. You know that.”  


“I know,” said Harry, groaning. “I thought it would be different. Mostly I just try to ignore it.”  


“At least in Quidditch, the commentators are going to give points based on who has the Snitch or the Quaffle. They can’t do anything else,” said Hermione.  
“I’m kind of old to be playing Quidditch,” said Harry. “I’m not nearly as fast as I used to be.”  


“Exactly. That’s why I’m thinking management,” said Hermione. “You were a great Quidditch Captain. Ron says the Captain of the Chudley Cannons is looking to retire, and he wants to hire an intern.”  


“What?” said Harry. “Hermione, I’m so out of practice it isn’t funny. The only experience I’ve had running a Quidditch team was in sixth year. Besides, weren’t we talking about Draco? I still don’t want to give up my job just to make him happy. That’s asking for problems.”  


“I think you need to evaluate whether you really want this job as much as you think you do, for its own sake,” said Hermione. “Now you and Draco seem to be on a break, it seems like the perfect time to do it.”  


Harry thought about for a minute, then nodded.  


“Fine. I’ll think about it.”  


  
“Draco. Draco.”  


Draco mmmphed and rolled over. This dumped him onto the floor, though, and he sat up in shock.  


Right. He was in Cecily’s flat, not his own. She squatted next to him, looking concerned.  


“You need to get up if you don’t want to be late for work.”  


“Why are you being so nice to me?” was the first thing that came out of Draco’s mouth.  


Cecily smiled without humour.  


“Have you seen your face?”  


“What’s wrong with my face?”  


“You look like your world’s just ended,” she said, and left him alone. Draco sat there for a second, then got up and went to use Cecily’s bathroom. He gave himself a good look in the mirror and found, to his consternation, that Cecily was quite right. He could not have looked more devastated had he tried. He stood there for a good minute trying to compose his face into its usual haughty mask, but it was no use.  


So. Cecily had felt sorry for him.  


“I don’t want your pity,” he said when she came into earshot again, but it came out cracked.  


“I don’t pity you,” she returned. “I see that you’re a human being for the first time, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. I treated you like the person you act like you are. But the person you act like you are couldn’t fall so completely in love with another person to produce this.” She indicated him at large with a sweep of her hand. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”  


“I’ve hardly thought of anything else,” he answered, “but my mind keeps going in circles. I’ve tried for so long to get over his having to be away from me and in danger and leaving me home. I don’t know what else I can do.”  


“Something different? Clearly this burying thing isn’t working for you.”  


“Burying?” He splashed his face with water and began casting the charms that would make him presentable.  


“Bury the pain, bury the fear. You tried that. Have been trying it since you got together, right? Definition of insanity.” She moved efficiently around Draco to procure and use a hairbrush.  


“I hate that definition of insanity,” he muttered. “Isn’t that how you get better at something? Do it over and over?”  


“Except you’ve found you aren’t getting better at it. Time for a different approach. What if you joined the Aurors? Then you could be with him when he was on dangerous missions.”  


“How in the hell do you know so much about my and Harry’s relationship?” he asked, somewhat irritated. “We’ve never had a civil conversation before yesterday.”  


She shrugged. “Bits of things you’ve said to Melissa, that Melissa’s said about you. Also, you talk in your sleep.”  
“Were you in Slytherin?”  


She laughed. “I think I would have taken that as an insult yesterday. I went to the Salem Witches’ Academy.”  
“In America? You’ve got no accent at all.”  


“No, well, I lived here until I was ten. And then I moved to America, and everybody paid attention to me because I was the girl with the cute accent, so I didn’t try to conform at all. And I moved back three years ago when Mum died. Enough about me. We’re talking about you and Harry.”  


“Joining the Aurors? Hm. Do you think they’d let us be partners?”  


“I don’t know. Would you be any good at it in the first place?”  


“I’ve been on some of the less dangerous missions with Harry anyway unofficially. I don’t see why not.”  


“Well, then. Think about it. But right now we have to go to work.” She tossed him a bagel, which he caught, and marched out the door. Draco had little choice but to follow.


	23. Torn to Tattered

Pt. 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 5: Torn to Tattered  


Draco had a much-needed busy day. Customer after customer came in needing consultations, and Melissa’s smile got less and less faked as she happily charged them. Draco was just glad they took his mind off Harry, at least part of the time. Every time he so much as paused for breath, he was thinking about Aurors again.  
And then he walked a customer out into the shop, and happened to glance out of the window.  
Harry stood outside, and their eyes met.  


Harry did something he never did. He left work early. Not just a couple of hours early, he did that often enough, especially when he was exhausted or there was nothing to do. But today, he walked out of his office at noon and went to Nottingwood’s Numerology.  
He didn’t know what he was doing there, he really didn’t. What was he hoping for, besides a glimpse of Draco? To talk? To see if Draco was as miserable as he was?  
He saw Draco’s coworkers, neither of whom appeared to notice him, bustling about. He knew Draco worked in the back most of the time, so he waited.  
And then he came out.  


Draco searched Harry’s face for clues. Pain, yes, in the set of his mouth. The sort of distracted frenzy Harry usually got only during a particularly problematic case in his especially-ruffled hair and askew glasses. Desperate hope in the lines around his eyes. And suddenly he didn’t need Harry to apologize, he just needed Harry.  


Harry gazed at Draco through the window. The raw emotion in his face, so different from the Malfoy mask, brought back memories of the day Draco had showed up at his house, shaking with fear. In a rush of love, Harry wished he could take away Draco’s past, make it so that Draco didn’t have to go along as he did, pretending painful things weren’t there because dealing with them did too much damage.  


Melissa and Cecily temporarily forgot about their customers as they watched their coworker and friend walk toward the door as if in a dream, then break into a run. They couldn’t hear what was said as Draco flew into Harry’s arms outside the window and Harry pulled him into a tight embrace, but Hermione, who had followed her friend out of worry and was now secreted behind a conveniently placed post holding up the neighbor shop’s porch roof, could.  
“I’m sorry—”  
“It’s okay—”  
“It’s not—”  
“Harry, I forgive you. I’ll be better.”  
“I’ll quit my job—”  
“I’ll join the Aurors—”  
“I need you—”  
“I love you. We’ll figure something out.”  
“Come home tonight?”  
“Yes.”


	24. I Know the Reason

Pt 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 6: I Know the Reason

You rush into my arms and everything will be all right. We’re babbling assurances, and I’m struck with the realization that we are the same.  
  
Both quick to anger.  
  
Both equally quick to remorse and forgiveness.  
  
Both blustering along, trying to look strong, being, in my case, the public figure everyone knows but doesn’t know, and in your case, pretending you don’t care what they think of you.  
  
Both constantly terrified of slipping.  
  
Both completely in love and slightly terrified by it.  
  
We are different of course; no two human beings are exactly the same.  
  
Principles motivate me. Practical work you.  
  
I have always had Ron and Hermione and my other friends to be myself with. You have only me.  
  
But then again, it is because we are so alike that I understand these differences completely and I know now what to do with them.  
  
We agree that we have to talk. I don’t want to do it at home, and you don’t want to do it in public, so somehow we end up at the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow. We hold hands and visit Bathilda Bagshot’s grave and Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore’s and Ignotus Peverell’s and others and tell each other stories. Then we visit my parents and we really talk, about what we need and what we’re willing to give. I admit how desperate, how devastated I’ve been in only this short time without you, and you answer quietly that it was the same for you.  
  
I understand now, that you need me to say it first, that you need to be gruff and strong and not emotional. That is a relic of your parents’, and it will be many years if ever before you can let go of it.  
  
I understand now how scared you are, how you cannot forget how much more you have to lose than me, at least on the surface, if we were to make lists. I know that I will be proving how much I love you for as long as we’re together, and I don’t mind anymore.  
  
I love you. Have I even told you? Merlin, Draco, I think I just assumed you knew. No wonder you’re afraid to fall.  
  
You can fall for me, Draco, because I’ve fallen for you. You can drown, because I am drowning. I want to be your umbrella in the storm, as long as you can be my umbrella too when I need you.  
  
I still can’t believe I haven’t told you. We are so much the same.


	25. Lonesome Pine

Pt 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 7: Lonesome Pine

Draco was on top of the world. Harry’s coming back for him had meant more than he imagined. As they stood there in front of Nottingwood’s, he felt as though a great channel had opened up between their minds, allowing them to forgive each other and reach a new understanding without words.  
  
Oh, words were involved, but they had no effect whatsoever. Words did not encompass Draco’s new appreciation of Harry’s strength.  
  
Harry stood like a tree, with friends surrounding him, and yet as alone as Draco in his way. No one could completely empathize with Harry, because there was no one who had undergone the same circumstances or even close. He was as scared as Draco, and yet so brave.  
  
Draco wasn’t selfless enough to forget his own bravery, but for the first time, he felt that he and Harry were equals in a way.  
  
For all Harry was a tree, he didn’t know how deep his roots went. He didn’t know if the life he’d built for himself would collapse.  
  
Draco knew what that was like.  
  
In his own way, Harry had secret places in his mind he was afraid to let Draco see.  
  
And he was just as afraid of losing what they had.  
  
They started over. They learned again what living together meant, who would be where when, what was needed from whom when. Both of their bosses gave them time off, and in the little half-guilty smiles they shared when they told each other this, they understood that they had both been practically useless and unbearable to work with while apart. They spent the time getting to know each other again, and talking, talking for hours.  
  
And then Harry said it.  
  
It might not have meant so much before, when Draco was so convinced he was a charity case, but with his new understanding of Harry, he understood exactly what it cost, exactly how hard and how easy it was for Harry to say.  
  
It was practically a whisper, the depth of feeling communicated in shaking hands and ducked head and brilliant green eyes that wouldn’t look at Draco until he took Harry’s face and made them.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Draco kissed Harry senseless, trying to return the sentiment without feeling like a parrot. Finally he found that there was nothing for it, and, leaning his forehead against Harry’s and grinning so widely his mouth hurt, he answered.  
  
“I love you, too.”


	26. Mary Mac

Pt 3: Echo Echo  
Chapter 8: Mary Mac

“Draco! Where does the cake go?”  
  
“On the left side table. Do you have the plates?”  
  
“Can’t carry it all!”  
  
“Are you a wizard or not?!”  
  
“…I was afraid to drop it!”  
  
“Riiight.”  
  
Hermione strode across the lawn and took the cake from Harry.  
  
“The chairs and tents are set up,” she said, indicating the large expanse of lawn now shaded by many tents and the chairs and tables set under them. “Food is on the right table, dessert on the left. Where are the plates and forks for the cake?”  
  
Harry turned and walked back into the house. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
“Where’s the music?” asked Draco, who was carefully adjusting the decoration charms.  
  
“On their way,” answered Hermione. “Don’t panic.”  
  
“Right,” muttered Draco. Harry returned with the plates and forks, and followed Hermione to the dessert table.  
  
“Guest book is nice and visible,” noted Harry as he passed it.  
  
“Of course,” said Hermione. “How would you ever keep track of everyone who’s coming if you didn’t have a book?”  
  
Several people popped into existence just outside the tents, and Hermione went to show them in.  
  
“The stage is over here, just leave a little room for Harry and Draco to make a speech. All right, you two, that’s everything. I’ll supervise out here, now go get dressed.”  
  
“She’s slightly terrifying,” Draco said to Harry as they turned back into the house.  
  
“Not nearly as much as your boss. Whose idea was it to introduce them?”  
  
“I didn’t,” said Draco, sounding surprised. “I thought you did.”  
  
“No. How did they ever end up conspiring, then?”  
  
“No idea. Melissa was a Slytherin, Cessy might as well have been, and Hermione could’ve been a Ravenclaw, though, so I’m not really surprised that they’re collaborating so well.”  
  
“Thought we’d broken you of the habit of stereotyping people by house,” said Harry, laughing and whacking his lover on the shoulder. “Come on, get your suit on.”  
  
“Only if you do, too.”  
  
“Aren’t we not supposed to watch each other get dressed?” Harry teased.  
  
“That’s for weddings,” said Draco, “and we’re not getting married, are we? Yet.”  
  
“Yet.”  
  
Somehow, the atmosphere became awkward, and they changed in silence. But then they went back out into the yard, and Hermione was already entertaining their first guests, Neville and Hannah Abbott. Luna showed up shortly after, and Harry and Draco forgot the awkwardness in greeting their guests. More and more people streamed into the yard, including their respective friends and coworkers, Ministry officials, a few representatives from Gringotts, and others. The musicians played strings instruments in the background, seemingly inexhaustible, until, finally, Hermione signaled to Harry, and it was time for the speech.  
  
“Hello, everyone,” he started, swallowing hard. “As you know, Draco and I are hosting this little get-together in order to announce our new business venture. We’re becoming private contractors, for, well, puzzles. I have tried-and-tested Auror field skills, including one of the highest success rates in the department and formidable Defense Against the Dark Arts skills.” He’d hated putting that part in, but Hermione and Draco wrote it back in whenever he crossed it out. “Draco, meanwhile, has excellent skills in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and has, until now, worked for Nottingwood’s Numerology, which frequently brought him difficult Arithmancy-related problems, none of which he has been unable to solve with time and effort. Our services would be perfect for, as an example, opening up an ancient tomb sealed with runes, discovering the location of an artifact mentioned by a dead wizard in an encoded book, or assisting the Aurors with any number of clever Dark wizards. I know from my experience as a field Auror that these types of cases are often encountered, in which case an outside Arithmancer is hired. However, it would greatly benefit such cases if the Auror were accustomed to working with the Arithmancer, and this never happens. We are a matched pair, used to working quickly and efficiently together, with a highly complementary set of skills.” This was a bit of a fib. Only since The Fight had they really understood each other well enough to work together. “We’d be honored if you’d consider us for any engagements. Even if you’d just like to keep us on file for future consideration, please take some of the business cards next to the guest book. Thank you.”  
  
The crowd applauded, and Harry stepped down, relieved at having finished his speech. They returned to mingling with the crowd, and Harry shook hands with goblins and Ministry officials until he thought his arm likely to fall off. Finally, everybody he didn’t actually know had left, and it seemed he and Draco were left with only their friends and a large party still in swing. Harry was struck, as always, by just how many people he knew and liked.  
  
The music paused for only the second time all day.  
  
“Hello?” said Draco. “Since all of the professional people have now left, I thought this was a perfect opportunity to do something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. Harry? Come here?”  
  
Confused, Harry made his way up to the stage and stepped up onto it.  
  
“What?” he asked for Draco’s ears, but Draco did not remove the Sonorous charm. Instead, he knelt to the ground.  
  
“Harry, I love you with all of my heart and soul. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what happens.” In that ‘no matter what happens’ was contained so much. The insecurities. The fights that had so recently stopped. The fact that both of them knew they were too much in love to do anything but live with one another. And the fact both of them had left their jobs for a brand new idea which, although supported in every way by both their former bosses and all their friends, had no guarantee of bearing fruit.  
  
“Will you marry me?”  
  
Draco, and the crowd, seemed to be holding their collective breath.  
  
“Yes, you ridiculous man,” said Harry, grinning wildly. “Come here.” Draco slid the ring onto his finger and stood, now also grinning as though his face would split. “Yes, I will marry you,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, and pulled him into a kiss. The entire crowd roared. When they broke apart, Draco removed the charm.  
  
“Really?” he asked, for Harry’s ears alone.  
  
“I love you more than anything,” Harry told him. And, although it didn’t really connect to that sentence, he added, “You still surprise me.” And then, “I hope you keep doing that forever.”  
  
“I plan to,” said Draco, and kissed him again.  
  
Fin


End file.
